


Writing Exercises I

by Laura JV (jacquez)



Category: due South
Genre: Challenge Response, F/M, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-06-12
Updated: 2001-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-11 03:03:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11139834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacquez/pseuds/Laura%20JV
Summary: 10 short-shorts on the subject of fellatio.





	Writing Exercises I

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Writing Exercises I

## Writing Exercises I

by Laura Jacquez Valentine

Author's Website: http://www.dementia.org/~jacquez/writing/fanfic.html

Disclaimer: 

Author's Notes: I'm afraid I must blame Resonant.

Story Notes: 

* * *

  1. The Seventh Time. 



The first time he did this he spent the next few hours brushing his teeth until all he could taste was blood and mint. The second time was easier. By the third or fourth time he could barely remember that he _had_ to do this, that he didn't have a choice. By the fifth time, he'd forgotten that Vecchio had broken his nose and split his lip to get him to do it, the first time, which was ages ago, now. By the sixth time, he didn't want to brush his teeth afterwards; he wanted to save the taste in his mouth. 

Vecchio's fingers are hard in his hair and he leans his head against his hip. "Thanks, Ray," he says. 

"Shut the hell up, Frankie." Vecchio pushes him away and zips up his expensive trousers and walks out of the gym, just like the sixth time, and the fifth, and the fourth, all the way back to the first time, the time Frankie had to brush his teeth until his gums bled. 

2\. Bittersweet. 

Ben loved my mouth. I remember that, when I can't think of him in uniform without pain, when I can't think of betraying him without hurting inside. I remember the way he looked when I lowered my head over his cock and took him in, his fingers twisting in the sheets because he didn't want to grab my head. I remember how he started to shake just before orgasm, fine tremors all down the insides of his thighs, and how when he pressed his shoulders into the mattress and threw his head back it meant he couldn't hold on another second. 

Not another second, but there was this endlessness about him just then, like coming is the moment of immortality. I remembered him holding me in the cold, and I remember thinking he was dying on me, and the last time I saw him he was falling backwards, shot, his eyes glazed. 

I'm not even sure if he survived. 

When I can't think of him any other way, I remember him immortal and in ecstasy. 

3\. Getting It. 

You GOTta GET your OWN! That's it, bam bam. That's how this feels. You know? Like you want something, you get it yourself. Well, hell, I wanted. Too damn lonely and too damn revved up and I know where I can get that solved. 

There's this place, this club, where you do not go to dance. Nor do you go for the drinks or the music. You go there for one purpose only, and that is that there is the best place to find some guy who is willing to make some time in a bathroom stall. 

Or where to be a guy who is willing to make some time in a bathroom stall, which is me right now. I like _getting_ , OK, don't get me wrong, but I like _giving_ , too. And right now I am in a mood to give. Been a year or so since I been there, since just after Stella and I split up, and it's like--OK, if you're _getting_ , you only get it once, and it's over and done. Whereas if you're giving, you can do it as long as your jaw holds out, plus you get to be the one getting up-close-and-personal. 

_Getting_ sucked off is impersonal like this. I can get _that_ anywhere. But giving it out, giving it out is like an act of love. I do this because I fucking love having my mouth fucked, right? 

All RIGHT. You get your _own_ that way. You just gotta do it like that, bam bam bam. 

4\. My First Time. 

First time? Just after high school. After finals but before graduation, you know? Behind the school. No, not _Irene_ , never _Irene_ , I never asked Irene--no, not Angie, either. Marie. Her name was Marie. 

She wore too much makeup and everyone said she would if you asked, and so I asked and you know what? She would. But it was embarrassing. I mean, I don't think she liked it. It's kind of--well, the first time Angie did, it _meant_ something. It meant, "I love you, Ray" and "I like making you happy, Ray", and that was good. That was important. 

I don't like it when it's not important. That's what Marie taught me. I mean, I like it, but I don't _like_ it like it, not the way I like it when it means something. My dick likes it, but my head couldn't care less. Capiche? 

You gonna eat that, Benny? 

V. Mantra. 

"Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray." 

I can't seem to stop saying his name, and he stops, pulls back, and looks up at me. "Fraser, no offense, but shut up. You're wrecking my concentration." 

"I'm sorry, Ray." 

He shakes his head and presses me back flat on his bed. His mouth is warm and wet, and his tongue feels incredible. He hums in the back of his throat and the vibration finds its answer in my body as orgasm takes me, the rhythm of my hips and the pulsing of semen echoing what he asked me not to say: Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray... 

6\. Sea Legs. 

Constable Turnbull. Renfield Turnbull. Huh. He's tall and good-looking, and rather whimsical. Almost like he expects not to be taken seriously, and so he's deliberately odd. 

Or maybe he's just not comfortable here. It's hard to tell. He follows me below decks and we find a dark corner. 

"God," he says, and kisses me like a man who's been too long between kisses. I wonder what Chicago is like that he can't find a guy to kiss. We fumble into each other's uniform pants, lean against each other in the dark and start to jack each other off. God, it's good, good, good...been too long for _me_ , too. Too long since--oh. I can feel his balls come up, and I pull away from his hand. Go down to my knees and suck that pretty cock into my mouth. 

He comes in my mouth and doesn't make a sound. When it's over, he refastens his pants and produces a handful of tissues from somewhere, which he hands to me. I clean my come off my hand and he pulls me to my feet and kisses me again, strong legs against mine, supporting us both against the sway of the ship. 

Guy that tall, you wouldn't think he'd get his sea legs fast, but you'd be wrong about him. Whimsical. Odd. Hell of a guy. 

7\. Opportunities I. 

I regret not giving the real Ray Vecchio something more to remember me by. There are many things that I'm sure he will remember, but I--well. I *didn't* do the one thing he wanted most. I could never bring myself to--allow him to have sexual intercourse with me. 

Ray. Ray, it's not funny. I'm serious. 

Well, I realize that my choice of vocabulary--fine! Fine, Ray. I never let him fuck me. Does that make you happy? 

The last time we were together, before my vacation, he wanted to, you see. And I didn't let him. There were other things we did, of course-- 

Well, I used my _mouth_ , Ray, obviously. 

8\. Grist for the Mill. 

You hear rumors about guys. If they're about your partner, you defend him, right? So I was always wondering, how come Vecchio never did defend Fraser when people said stuff. You'd think a little guy like that, with that funny spiked hair, he'd know what it was to be picked on and wouldn't want his partner getting it, but no. Not Vecchio. I'm glad Huey's my partner, not him. 

Because rumors like this, they can wreck a guy. 

Rumor says, and I'm not saying I believe it, that someone saw Fraser and some guy, you know. In an alley. And that Fraser was the guy on his knees. 

I mean, you know how rumors are, right? Get all, uh, blown out of proportion. 

I'm just saying that Vecchio should do something about that. Maybe break a few heads before it gets too far. That's all I'm saying. 

9\. Opportunities II. 

I keep thinking, where did I go wrong with Stella? Because I don't know. I never knew. Maybe it was that I wanted kids and maybe it was that I dropped outta college and maybe it was that I said her mom reminded me of Julia Child. 

I meant that her mom was a good cook, but she thought I meant her mom was a drunk. 

It wasn't the sex. It was _so_ not the sex. I mean, we could go from a fight to sex in about three seconds flat, Stella and me, and at the end still be mad at each other. 

We got worked up once, about doing laundry, and in the middle of it she pushes me back on the bed and opens my jeans and down she goes, working my dick with her mouth, driving me nuts until I come so hard I see stars. And she liked it, too, because she was shaky afterwards and all I had to do was touch between her legs and she went off. 

And so we're there, after, and she goes, "Ray, you _have_ to separate out the darks before you put the fucking bleach in!" and we're fighting again, just like that. 

10\. Those Crazy Humans. 

Humans. Very strange creatures. You can be embarrassing at times--you do _not_ know when not to lick things, and you never know how to pick women--but at least you can track by scent. Most humans can't do that. 

And certainly Turnbull can't do that, although he makes a mean ratatouille. 

He puts things in his mouth that he really shouldn't. Things like genitals that decently should only be licked by one's own self-- _other_ people's genitals, you understand. There's a man who comes by every now and then. Brings me leftover pizza--not a bad guy. But _this_ one, Turnbull, he just...well, it's wrong. Ick. 

Licking another wolf's balls just doesn't appeal to me. I have _no_ idea why Turnbull likes to do it, but he does. 

And then the _other_ man does it to _him_! Benton, can you believe it? I couldn't, the first time. _Two_ humans putting OTHER PEOPLE'S GENITALS in their MOUTHS. 

You come from a very sick species, my friend. 

* * *

End


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